


Drunk Twister

by DemonDeepFried



Series: Drabbles [44]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Drunk Twister, Drunkenness, F/F, Funny, Hangover, Twister - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:43:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4692476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDeepFried/pseuds/DemonDeepFried
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up to a banging hangover and to find out that you played drunk Twister with Charlie and the boys videoed it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Twister

_“You are going down, sister,” you grinned at Charlie, standing at one side of the twister mat._

_She smiled and winked lasciviously at you. “You sure about that?”_

_When Dean called out ‘right hand, red’, you waggled your eyebrows teasingly at her before placing your hand down on the directed spot and told her, “It’s on.”_

_Admittedly, things did get a little out of control…_

_…probably when you started having so many shots that they spilled over the mat and it became a whole lot slippery._

_Or when personal space went completely out the window and you ended up collapsing on top of Charlie in fits of laughter._

_Or when Castiel had consumed enough alcohol to the point where he was acting just as drunk as you, Charlie, Dean and Sam were._

_Or when Sam had the fantastic idea of filming Charlie and you playing drunk twister._

_Yeah, it was probably then._

You shook yourself awake the next morning, gagging at the lingering taste of tequila in your mouth. “Urgh,” you mumbled into the couch cushion, because you could already feel your hangover gnawing away at your retinas.

Someone clearing their throat loudly caught your attention and you peered up from where you were lying face-down on the bunker’s sofa in a small pool of what could be various forms of alcohol or your own drool.

It was Dean.

“Whaddyawant?” you slurred, turning your face back into the cushion.

He chuckled and hauled you up to a sitting position by your shoulders to thrust a mug of steaming coffee into your hands. “Remember much of last night?” he asked you.

Shaking your head, you replied, “Not really.”

A devious grin spread across Dean’s face and he produced a video camera from behind his back. “Perhaps, you better look at this.”


End file.
